


Language of flowers

by MangaBitch



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Affection, America being America (Hetalia), America/England Feels (Hetalia), America/England Fluff (Hetalia), Brother Feels, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Brothers, Brothers America & Canada (Hetalia), Coffee, Colors, Cute, Exhaustion, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Feelings, Feels, Flashbacks, Flowers, Friendship, Gift Giving, I Made Myself Cry, Language of Flowers, Lazy Mornings, Love, M/M, Male Friendship, Memories, Mentioned England (Hetalia), Mentioned France (Hetalia), Modern Era, Napping, Nostalgia, Pajamas & Sleepwear, Photographs, Pictures, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Ribbons, Roses, Self-Reflection, Shock, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Sleepiness, Smile, Social Media, Surprises, Symbolism, The Author Regrets Nothing, Time Skips, Tsundere England (Hetalia), Tsunderes, Twitter, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, You Have Been Warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 13:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13100655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MangaBitch/pseuds/MangaBitch
Summary: England gives America a bunch of roses, the colour of the sun itself. Which in the language of flowers means friendship. Showing in his own way he cares for America and is proud of him.





	Language of flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Random knowledge makes a good fic

America yawned wearily as he felt his limbs crack and groan as he got up from the nothing but regret for having another late night and not having gotten his shit together. He had no idea what time it was, all he remembered was taking a nap on the sofa, then all of a sudden, he heard someone knocking at his door.

Due to the weird position he was in and the fact he slept on a couch, his body was stiff and sore. Unlike the comfort of his soft bed, the couch was comfortable but not exactly sleeping material. Maybe he should follow England or Canada and maybe put some throws or faux fur on it to make it a little more comfortable for that purpose.

He had done an all-night binge the previous day, having played video games all night until he crashed on the sofa at gods knows what time in the morning. Always wanting to beat a new level no matter how tired he was or considered going to bed. But he always regretted it due to the fact he missed plans or forgot about things.

He would sleep in and sometimes even sleep through alarms, though some people were understanding a lot of people were tired of it. England, Canada, France and even Japan now were growing weary with it. Having to apologize thoroughly and earn back their trust after they started to ignore him for a while as payback for flaking out on them.

He trudged up to the door, his eyes barely awake and his mind in a fog. Scratching his hair and rubbing his eyes of sleep, trying to make himself look as presentable as he possibly could. As he got to the door he found a mailman standing there. He looked confused and surprised, he hadn't ordered anything online nor was the mail usually delivered on these days.

He would have known because when he ordered something online he was usually giddy for days, sometimes not even going out or staying by the door for hours. Just waiting for it to arrive, though other nations did not approve this. He had even memorized mail days so he knew when to clear out his mailbox so that it didn't build up.

However, the guy was just doing his job, so he tried to be as polite as possible about it. He saw the mailman was holding a large rectangular cardboard box with brown string wrapped around it. The mailman smiled cheerfully at him, though felt bad for waking the poor guy. "Alfred Jones?" he asked curiously. He hoped he got the right house, otherwise he would feel just awful about waking him.

It had taken a while to get here as he didn't know which house was his, due to the fact he lived in such a complex neighbourhood. But he had finally managed to get here now, despite how long it had taken him. But the most important part was that the mail arrived without any form of harm to the contents. That was his pride as a mailman.

"Yeah, that's me" Alfred yawned sleepily. He was still pretty drowsy, but he was trying his best to be polite. he knew he seemed uninterested and bored, but without caffeine his energy depleted. Though, he felt embarrassed about standing at his door in his PJ shit and boxers. Having wished he had pulled on a pair of pants to cover up a little.

The guy held up the box "I have a package for you…" he explained then peered at the label briefly. "...From a Mr Kirkland?" he asked. It was a nice gesture and something that was done among friends as much as it should have been. He often wondered what the whole deal was with not being able to give flowers to someone, they were just plants after all.

Alfred's eyes widened as he heard that name. The last time he had gotten a present from England was around his birthday, it had been a beautiful homemade scarf with his flag on it. He had worn it proudly that July 5th despite how warm it had been and even to the meeting shortly after. Wearing it with pride and showing it off as much as possible.

He then grabbed his stamp from the drawer and marked the signature with it. He then took the package from the guy and closed the door. His curiosity having woken him up and given him a clearer state of mind. He couldn't help but wonder what England could have sent him and why. I mean he appreciated the gesture, but it wasn't his birthday, nor was it a special occasion.

He then lifted the tag on the box, skimming over the words with his eyes. A fond smile then spread across his face and his eyes filled with happiness. Jesus, England was such a mushy guy. Why he couldn't openly show how kind and gentle he actually was deep down, he had little to no idea. He just insisted on being stubborn all the time.

_For the Hero-England x_

He then undid the string ribbon on the box carefully. Then opened the box to which his eyes once again widened. Though he acted like a tough guy and said he found romance to be boring. That didn't mean he didn't appreciate thoughtful gifts from people. Secretly having a soft nature despite the fact, he was often labelled as an idiot or a child.

He just had so much energy he didn't know what to do with it, thus coming across as hyperactive. He just loved to have fun and share his ideas, the sky not even being the limit for him. Wanting to enjoy every single moment, everything being so amazing to him. Though deep down despite sometimes being annoying, he meant well deep down.

Inside was a bouquet of flowers, something he had never received from anyone before in his life. It wasn't a really common thing between male associates as it was seen as unmanly. They were beautiful and obviously home grown too. Their sweet perfume still wafting from their petals. They were yellow, lighter coloured on the bottom and darker on the top.

England had obviously used magic or some form of dye to make the flowers a different shade. But he thought that was amazing, that something so simple had been put towards such a lovely gift. He had put all of this thought into sending America a surprise present to show how much he cared about him. Showing his love for him in such a subtle way.

As he recalled from a conversation with France once before, yellow flowers were the symbol of friendship. A platonic gift between people to show they appreciate them as a companion. To show his affection for his ex-colony and younger brother, England had sent him flowers. The most beautiful home-grown flowers he had ever seen in the entirety of his existence.

America beamed and admired the flowers fondly. Though he was stubborn and often hard to understand a lot of the time, England had his moments of being a truly sweet guy. To go out of his way and give him such a beautiful present, something people rarely did for him. To have put so much thought, time and effort into it.

He then headed towards the kitchen quietly then briefly put the flowers on the counter. He then pulled out a green vase from underneath his sink and placed it on the counter beside the box. He hadn't used it in a while but didn't have the heart to throw it away. It was back from when he used to live with England, when he was first starting to grow into a nation.

He then gently started to clip the flowers, making sure they were tidy and presentable. England and France had both taught him about how to trim flowers back in the day, though he had no idea he would ever need such knowledge. He then added the attached plant food into the pot and mixed it in with plenty of water. Separating the flowers, a little as he placed them into the vase. Then standing back to admire his handiwork.

They looked really nice, the colours of summer, spring and autumn. Bringing a warmth to his heart that somehow reminded him of his childhood with England. The light perfectly hitting its petals and reminding him of the beautiful sunshine that he loved so very much. The kind he loved to feel on his skin as it beamed down across the world.

He then pulled his phone out from his back pocket and angled it. Then took a picture of the flowers, making sure the lighting was right. Staring at the image through his phone for a while before taking the picture. Mesmerized by the colours and beauty of it all, unable to look away. He then took the picture and sent it to England via a message, thanking him for the flowers.

Nobody had ever done anything so sweet and thoughtful for him in a long time. He didn't care if he looked like a sissy, he would proudly say he got flowers from his awesome brother. Flowers that showed their strong bond and were a present to show the love and admiration England had for him. I mean he raised him all by himself after all.

Once he was content, America made himself a fresh cup of coffee. His mood lighter, feeling happy and good inside. His morning made so much better thanks to England. He then picked up his mug, then made his way to the table with the vase. Placing it in the centre proudly. He didn't know why, but for once he felt like sitting at his table today.

He supposed it was the British in him coming out, after all that was part of his culture. But he just wanted to sit at his table for once and enjoy his view of the garden from his glass sliding doors. Watching the flowers and his garden, swaying in the wind with their bright colours and warmth. Making him feel happier inside than he ever thought he could be already.

The flowers making him think, that in his own way England was proud of him. Though not good in words, he just wanted what was best for him. Looking out for him even now. He then opened his twitter and posted the picture of flowers, wanting the world to see his gift. He didn't care if England got teased, because was proud to say whom he had gotten them from.

" _The best bouquet ever from my awesome big bro. England"_

 

**Author's Note:**

> I want to apologize in advance, the previous story was semi lost as my computer abruptly started. So I had to redux a lot of this.


End file.
